Tiny feather

Caught in the fine web of a window without glass,

There behind it

Somewhere invisibly goes the large cloudy sky,

There behind it

Somewhere invisibly shines the hot burning sun,             

Both sun and sky

Fill the rest of the world: distant, massive, ceaseless.

Their presence,

Revealed by the shiver of the tiny thing,              

Their slow change,

Caught in the tiny spaces among its fibers.

A massive sky,

A hot sun shining at a window without glass,

Both sun and sky

Contained in the softness of a tiny feather.

Infinities,

The nexus between them fills the rest of the world.